


I Hate Wisconsin

by tck489



Category: A-Team (2010), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tck489/pseuds/tck489
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is horny. Face is horny. Too bad Face is also sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate Wisconsin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delorita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/gifts).



> Written as a gift for the [A-Team Slash Secret Santa](http://a-tsecretsanta.livejournal.com) fic exchange

Hannibal made quite a sight, Face thought as he exited the en suite bathroom, half under the covers, sitting like that up against the headboard of the queen size bed belonging to a family unknowingly loaning it to the team. His strong bare chest contrasted against the magazine he held in front of him. He was wearing reading glasses, something he never did, but must've found alongside his reading material, which made the sight of him squinting at the magazine of "Short and Fab Women's Hairstyles" all the more absurd.

"See anything you like?"

As Face spoke, Hannibal looked up from his magazine and tossed it aside. "Me? No, but, ahh, I was thinking about the next job, maybe we should dress you in drag, put you undercover?"

"Whatever you say, boss," Face said, turning off the room's main light and approaching the bed he was sharing with Hannibal. "I'm more interested in getting under _these_ covers right now..." Face shivered and slid in next to Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at Face incredulously, "You're wearing that to bed?" The full grey sweat suit, something Hannibal didn't think he'd ever seen Face in, not even for PT exercises back in the Rangers, was enough on its own, but Face had also found a wool hat to pull over his head.

"Hannibal." Face said seriously, "It's December. In Wisconsin. I'm _cold_."

"And you've been complaining about it all week. You're lucky I let you turn the furnace up, I'm sweating." Hannibal pulled the covers back from his waist to reveal it wasn't just his chest that was bare. "I'm letting you simulate the desert heat, I thought you'd dress weather appropriate." If Hannibal was being honest with himself, the thing he missed the most about the Rangers was Face's inability to keep his shirt on, walking around the base like he'd never heard of shirts. The kid had had, and still had, a killer body. Civilian life unfortunately just seemed to require more clothes.

The job had taken longer than Hannibal had thought, and with Face's constant whining about the weather, his patience had gotten a bit thin. He wanted to wipe any lingering bitterness away, by laying Face out on the borrowed bed, burying the kid's face in the pillow while he pounded his ass raw, but his second in command was anything but sexy in this get-up.

Face, never one for modesty when it came to his looks, didn't seem to think the same. "I may feel cold, but I know you know I'm hot." Face said, twirling the ridiculous strings that lead down from the knit hat in his fingers. He curled up next to Hannibal's chest, snaking a hand down under the covers to fondle Hannibal's package. He stuck the thumb on his other hand in his mouth, and stared up at Hannibal, slowly batting his eyelashes.

Hannibal laughed out loud and pushed him away. "You look ridiculous, kid." At Face's pout, Hannibal grabbed at him, tossing the hat aside. He kissed his forehead, then pulled him in for a deep kiss on the mouth -- Face may not have looked sexy, but he still looked pretty damned adorable to Hannibal. Face groaned in pleasure and grasped tightly onto Hannibal, trying to mount him. Hannibal chuckled, "Not tonight, Rocky Balboa." Hannibal tucked him into his chest, "We'll get you warmed up tonight and in the morning your ass is mine."

"But we've got that thing tomorrow, that convention Murdock's been talking about, the reason we're still here on the Ice Planet Hoth…"

"If you're going to act like you don't know what a Sci-Fi convention is, you probably shouldn't make Star Wars references in the same sentence."

Face grumbled and turned away.

"Hey, come here Han Solo" Hannibal said.

"Oh so now I'm Han Solo?" Face said, mischievously. "Am I not Rocky any more? You're confusing me, boss, 'cause Han Solo's a very sexy man…"

Hannibal shushed him and gathered Face, sweat suit and all, up against him. "Get to sleep now and we'll have plenty of time in the morning."

Face smiled against the warmth of Hannibal's chest, and in no time the two were asleep.

* * *

It wasn't long before Hannibal woke again, though. Brought back to wakefulness from the heat, he pushed himself out of the bed, throwing on some boxers. As he walked out of the room and down the hall to adjust the thermostat he said to himself, "Sorry kid, but it's too damn hot."

He went back to their room, planning to crawl right back into bed and fall asleep before his body thought it was time to wake up, but when he got back, the covers were wrapped tightly around a mound on the bed. And that mound was quivering. Jesus, he'd only been out of the room for a minute.

"Face?" Hannibal said softly, sitting on the bed placing a hand on the pile of covers. He pulled back the covers to see Face shivering violently, the hat from earlier somehow found and pulled back on.

"Hey, hey," Hannibal said, sternly but gently, in the way that only Hannibal could. He took the hat off Face's head for the second time in a matter of hours and felt at his forehead. It hadn't been the thermostat that was the problem -- the kid was burning up. Hannibal's concerned eyes searched Face's fluttering ones in the moonlight trickling through the window.

"C-c-cold" Face mumbled, unconsciously batting Hannibal's hand away and ducking his head back under the covers.

"No way, kid, you're way too hot," Hannibal said, more for himself than to the deaf ears of his feverish partner, laying a reasonable amount of sheets over top of Face. So much for getting back to sleep. He got up to head to the bathroom, digging in the medicine cabinet for some OTC meds the owners had lying around. When he got back with a cold compress, some Tylenol and a cup of water, Face had thrown all the covers off him (and the bed).

Seemingly hot now, Face lay curled in the fetal position, coughing miserably into his palm. Quickly, Hannibal forced some pills and water into Face's mouth. He rescued the sheets from the floor and wrestled the thick sweater off of Face. Hannibal tucked the blankets around Face and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. For a half hour, Hannibal sat there, dabbing Face's sweaty brow with the damp washcloth, worriedly rubbing his shoulder, trying to coax Face into a more restful state of unconscious. As he looked on worriedly at his loopy second, Hannibal thought, _I hate Wisconsin_.

* * *

When Face woke up next, it was to the sound of the television. He startled for a moment, as it was the sound of a gun blast that woke him, before he could accurately identify it as the fake gunfire only Hollywood thought actually sounded like guns. He turned and saw Hannibal, sitting on the bed beside him. Face felt like crap, but he struggled to sit up and still mustered up a smile for Hannibal who rushed to hit the volume down on the remote, bagel stuffed in his mouth.

"Hey," Face said, frowning at the roughness of his voice. He rubbed unconsciously at the base of his throat.

Hannibal moved quickly to Face, clearly not concerned about catching whatever deathly virus Face had picked up, or at least more worried about the man himself than the bug he was carrying.

"Kid, you're awake?"

"What's it look like Hannibal?" Face groaned, and slumped back down into the bed.

Hannibal looked him over, brushing his big hand through Face's sweaty wavy locks.

"Your fever's down a bit" Hannibal declared.

"Heh? I had a fever?" Face asked confusedly, he looked down at his bare chest "Where's my hoodie?"

"Yes. Face. Have a fever, even." Ignoring Face's question about the sweater. It _had_ made sense to take his shirt off so he could smother the coughing man's chest with menthol rub, but he'd be lying if that was the only reason he'd divested Face of it.

"Oh," Face said brilliantly.

Hannibal eyed him. "Maybe you should go back to sleep, you seem a little out of it," he dumped a couple Tylenol out of the bottle and handed them to Face who obediently took them. "Since you're awake, you could do with another dose. Saves me the trouble of _administering_ them to you this time."

"What?!" Face said, nearly choking on the small caplets. "You put Tylenol up my butt?!"

"What's the matter? You don't you usually mind when I stick things in your ass."

Face blushed deeply, and emptily defended himself, "Hannibal, that's different!" 

Hannibal laughed, "No I didn't, but the look on your face was priceless."

"You're an ass" Face said, sinking into the pillow holding his head up, "Teasing me like that. I'm sick, you know."

"Go to sleep Face." Hannibal commanded.

"Only if you cuddle me."

"Only if you keep your mouth shut."

"But I can't breathe through my nose!"

"Kid, you are really testing me right now." _Brat_ , Hannibal thought, but the kid did sound really congested. "All right fine," Hannibal said, flicking off the TV and grabbing the little pot of Vicks VapoRub from the nightstand. He scooped out a big glob on his finger, stopping to reflect for a moment at the familiar motion, wishing Face hadn't gotten sick, and that it was a tub of lube he was holding.

"This will help your nose." Hannibal said, slathering the ointment at the top of Face's sculpted, golden brown and furry chest.

"Ah! Cold!" Face protested.

"It'll warm up," Hannibal said, rubbing it gently into Face's skin with his strong hands. Face smiled as it did and Hannibal's hand strayed to the side, softly ghosting a nipple.

"Mmmm," Face moaned contentedly.

Hannibal wasn't so content, his own dick hardening as he ate up Face's exposed chest and the soft little sounds he made. The Great Hannibal Smith could do many things, but resisting a needy Face was not one of them. To fuck the kid when he was this sick though? No way. "Sleep, Face. I mean it."

Face turned to him and demanded a kiss before falling back into a soft slumber.

* * *

When Face woke the next time, it was to the sound of the television. And the distinct _fap fap fap_ of someone masturbating. Since Face knew _he_ wasn't jacking off…

Face lifted his heavy head off the pillow, looking around in confusion. "Hannibal, are you _masturbating_?"

Hannibal didn't reply so much as grunt.

"…to _Alias_?!" Face added incredulously.

"Fucking hell" Hannibal groaned. Meeting Face's sleepy eyes, the innocence of his slow heavy blink, eyelashes thick with sleep… even sick it was too much for Hannibal and he spent himself into his palm staring into Face's shocked eyes.

"You can't be serious!" After a beat, "Hannibal!" He found the energy somewhere to jump out of the bed, taking the duvet with him. He pointed at the bed, like it was the scene of a crime.

"That's offensive!" Face continued to squeak, pointing his other hand at the TV. The duvet tangled up over his head.

Hannibal laid there breathing deeply, fucking spent. If he hadn't just come he'd be doing it again at the scene in front of him. He never thought elastic ribbed sweat pants could be hot, but he'd never seen them like this on Face. Hanging off his waist, showing off his muscled abdomen, curving around his ample behind… and on one leg the pant had ridden up a bit, revealing a thin ankle and a sculpted calf muscle… It was absurd how Face could make the flu, a blanket and sweat pants look good.

"I was right there! And you're whacking off to a guy who looks like me?! Come on Hannibal!" His own energy spent from shouting as best he could, he sat down on the edge of the bed, coughing into his hand. But he still had more in him. He gestured at the TV. "To _Alias_!" He said again.

Hannibal flopped down to the end of the bed on his stomach, placing a hand on that waist he'd just been admiring. "They have Netflix," Hannibal said simply. He gently pulled on one of Face's ears. "And you're sick."

Face sighed deeply.

"And I came because of you?"

_Fuck_ , thought Face. "I hate the cold. I hate being sick. I hate Wisconsin. And I hate you."

"Come on, Face. Quit pouting, I'll bring you some soup, and we'll have you back in fucking shape again in no time." Face looked at Hannibal's hand on his shoulder, and felt the stickiness on his palm.

_Ugh_. "Yeah, you definitely owe me some soup, but wash your hands first."

* * *

Face's hand stopped mid motion of bringing the spoonful of soup to his mouth. "Murdock didn't go to the geek meeting?"

"No, he did. I had to bribe BA, but he took him. Guess what kid, we're driving back to California when you're feeling better!"

Face slumped over the tray in front of him, still holding the spoon, soup slopping everywhere. "But Hannibal it's-"

"Cold, yes, I know Face. It's fascinating, your wealth of knowledge of the Northern climate, please tell me more."

Face grumbled and resumed the process of spoon to mouth. And stopped short again. He leant a suspicious eye to the contents of the spoon. "So Murdock made this before they left?"

"No, kid. I did."

Face set the spoon back in the bowl and continued side-eying it. The sound of the silverware against the ceramic bowl reverberated through the room. It was steaming hot, which was appealing to Face, but it _did_ have a bit of an odd smell.

"Maybe I'll just wait till Murdock's back from the freak show."

"You do remember that he makes his soup with anti-freeze…"

Face waved him away with a hand, "That's only been a problem on the grill, in soup it's delicious." Face sniffed at the bowl, "What did you use, motor oil? No thanks, Hannibal. My stomach feels fine and I don't want to change that." He held out the tray of soup and crackers, simply but lovingly prepared by Hannibal, to be taken away.

Hannibal stared at him a moment, then snatched the tray away from him. Gruffly, he spoke, "You know what Face, you seem like you're feeling better. Make your own damn soup."

"Hey, Hannibal, wait!" Face protested, but it was too late and the door slammed behind the fast departing former colonel.

* * *

Hannibal sat on the couch in the living room, looking at his rejected soup miserably. _My soup is fine_ , thought Hannibal, sipping slowly at it. His mouth soured a bit as he swallowed a particularly big helping. Okay, so it wasn't _great_ , but it wasn't as bad as Face had made it out to be. He flicked the smart TV on, and Netflix helpfully asked if he wished to resume his previous episode of _Alias_. _Don't mind if I do_ , thought Hannibal, half wishing that Face could be as easy going as his doppelgänger Will Tippin. Or if Face hadn't gotten sick… surely he'd have more patience for Face's brattiness if they'd been able to bang last night.

He sipped more of his soup, which was _totally fine once you got used to it_ , and let himself get pulled into the fantastical narrative of the episode. 

Right at the climax of the spy mission, he heard some heavy feet coming down the stairs.

"Hannibal?" Face's sick voice asked.

Hannibal stared stoically at the TV screen, slurping up his soup. 

Face, not accepting Hannibal's silence, approached the couch, wrapped in more blankets than Hannibal thought to be in the house. Face crawled up on the couch, and lay down with his head beside Hannibal. He rubbed his head against Hannibal's lap, seeking attention to no avail.

"Hey," he eventually said and sounded so miserable Hannibal had to quickly look at him -- and did a double take. The kid was in the damn hat again, and wearing way too many layers of clothes.

"You know you should really be in bed" not meeting his eyes, but moving a hand to tentatively rest on Face's side. 

"I was lonely."

Hannibal just grunted, pretending to be entirely engrossed in the action on screen.

"You're not mad are you?" Face asked.

"No kid, I'm not mad"

"I'm sorry - "

"- I know how you get when you're sick," Hannibal said cutting him off, "Hell, I know how you are all the time"

"Hey!" Face interjected, but Hannibal continued.

"..and I know this soup is bad, but you need to eat and I just, I _care_ about you, a lot."

Face looked up at him through sweaty bangs, pressed flat against his forehead peeking out from under the hat. With wide glassy eyes, he asked, "Yeah?"

"Yeah kid, really."

Face burrowed into his blankets, and Hannibal's lap. "You got any of that soup left?"

"I'll go heat it up"

"On second thought, it can wait." Face crawled on top of him, unbuttoning Hannibal's pants, pulling down the fly. He began palming Hannibal's bulge through his boxer briefs.

"Kid, you don't have to"

"Believe me boss, I want to." Face said seductively, looking up at Hannibal through thick eyelashes… How could anyone resist those big blue eyes? "Like you said, I'm feeling much better…" The cough that punctuated the sentence was less than convincing, but the mouth that came down to suckle on Hannibal's package through the cotton of his shorts left no room for argument.

Face stopped suddenly, clutching onto Hannibal's arm seriously. "But can we turn the TV off? It's kind of freaking me out."

"Anything for you, kid," Hannibal flicked off the TV and Face resumed his ministrations to Hannibal's crotch. He leaned back in growing ecstasy. Yeah, Will Tippin had nothing on Templeton Peck. Even when Templeton Peck was wearing a silly wool hat.

* * *

"So what's the difference between SD-6 and the CIA?"

"Face, I've explained this to you so many times. Just watch the show."

"With this Jack guy on the screen? No problem," Face said, between mouthfuls of soup.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at the man curled up in his lap. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, he's hot. What can I say, I have a thing for older guys. Just call me a grampa chaser"

"Hey, watch it kid!" Hannibal said, swatting at the side of Face's head.

Face was too slow moving out of the way, and laughed heavily. Snuggling back up against Hannibal's lap to watch the rest of the episode, Face sighed, "This is nice. I mean, I'm sorry I got sick, but I guess Wisconsin's not so bad after all."

"Still cold though, yeah?"

"Duh, Hannibal!"


End file.
